Prompt: Break
by Ngoc Chau
Summary: He thought back to when she looked at him, and recalled that moment of pain shared between the two, unwanted yet exquisite. Then Mayuri was not so sure from whom the pain had come from: her or him. Mayuri x Nemu, Lemon, Part 3/5 of Skin, pic included!


**Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach****.**

**So, this is the follow up to Capability. Tell me what you think about it. I had hoped for this to be pretty angsty, but I'm not so sure.  
><strong>**ps  
><strong>**I wonder if you guys have noticed that I have never once used the word "making love" or "love-making" in these prompts.**

**OMG! MimiStriped was so nice! I asked her to do an illustration of a fic and she did! Here is the link to it! I hope you love it as much as I do, she is so nice! Amazing! My heart stopped when I saw it! So amazing!**

**http: / browse .deviantart .com / ?order = 5&q = kurotsuchi# / d3jow2q**

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><p>In the past few days, Kurotsuchi Mayuri had noticed something odd was going on with Nemu.<p>

For one thing, she was becoming a quiet little mouse. One day he had not noticed her and thought she had left him until when he was storming towards the door, did he see the blur of black and white in the corner and realize that she had been with him the whole time.  
>In the past few days, she had become a new woman in the SDRI. She carried out her work diligently in such a change that he had noticed it acutely as did all the other scientists who usually overlooked her if she was without him. An improvement(that was what he called it) that he greatly appreciated was her lack of speaking. That the most she would utter to him at a time as they both worked was, "Yes, sir."<br>She was often found in her own office as she wrote out her own paperwork and reports, and even began writing his for him. She did not spend much time with her club anymore and, through his spies and cameras all throughout the Seireitei, declined many invitations from other shinigamis and their social excursions. Even the little pink-haired brat had ceased coming by lately. She did not disturb him at his work and always made sure that he was well stocked in what he needed.  
>Every spare minute of her time was well spent on work and he could not even remember the last time they had coupled together(the pleasure of work outweighed the pleasure of orgasm). He had had no need for such a thing in the beginning, it was only because of her that he had returned to the habit of mutual intercourse instead of self-satisfaction.<p>

And all this would've greatly pleased him if not for one thing.

That was her aversion of him.  
>He called it aversion for what else could it be? Numbing herself completely in his presence that he could barely sense her emotions as sharply as he did earlier: that for once he was in the dark to what she could possibly be thinking or feeling. And he would not lower himself to attempt to 'reconnect' with her, simply to know what she was thinking about when her green eyes would travel up from the view of the floor to a faraway wall.<p>

The aversion went so far as she would not look at him. All that time working, supervising the experiments of the SDRI's scientific heads, and running errands for him. Even when their shared empathy was hindered, he just knew that it was her little trick to avoid him. To not stay in the same room as him. It was not hard to say, Reader, that this avoidance was more than enough to annoy him, to convince him that he should put the little ingénue in her place.  
>It worked… for a while.<br>In the midst of his punishment to her for her insolence to him, she had looked at him for a brief second until the light disappeared from her eyes and lost all senses to the world. He could not control his anger well, especially when it came to physical abuse - kicking and swinging away until the subject could feel nothing no longer in sweet unconsciousness or until he became bored, the latter usually came first. She had made herself stronger. Why? That she should endure his punishments silently until it was 'done', he might've assumed. But he just knew it was for another reason altogether and refused to believe it was because of him.

After the beatings he would leave her, only tending to her if she called after him for help. But she did not call after him and the next day when he came back to where he had left her, she remained face down in a pool of her own bile and blood. As much contrite he was and felt that he should fix her, his pride would not let him wallow before her and hope that his care would convince her of anything regarding him. He ordered Akon to take her to the Fourth division as he was busy and then to tell one of the other shinigami to clean up the mess.

Their professional relationship did not fare worse than their personal relationship behind closed doors. He could trust her not to poison him, even a thought of betrayal like that would result in her own self-destruction. But they were more distanced in the privacy of their home. She would make his dinner and tidy around the place; but she would not say a word to him, not even look at him. When they spoke to each other, seldom that it was, her gaze would be directed anywhere else but him. Dinner would be spent in silence, the occasional, "Is there anything you need, sir?" He would not start a conversation, never; he was hungry and he would not grovel to a creation of his.

Albeit in certain times when he was feeling generous and paid her his attentions, she would still not face him. His amorous plays on her were acknowledged as if it was a mere itch.

One late night as she was in her room, her hair undone, he entered: tired and exhausted, and in the mood, shall we say, for her warm company in his bed.

She sat in front of her vanity, still and motionless, as he swept her long hair over one shoulder and proceeded to kiss and nibble at her neck. The gentle ministrations growing more passionate, his teeth scraped against her skin and he bit hard. He sat on the bench alongside her, his legs pointing opposite from hers. One hand of his slipped into the folds of the white hiyoku, eagerly fondling her bountiful breasts while the other was happy to handle her rear.  
>Oh, she was so warm. Her skin was just what he had been craving for the past few days until he thought he would very much go insane if he could not take her. How he had thought about this the past few days when he felt next to freezing. So soft. Mayuri licked at the spot beneath her ear, his nose brushing by her lobe.<p>

He felt himself growing excited when that whimper of hers escaped her lips, the walls she had ardently put up were crumbling. She was overwhelmed by him, this sudden affection after so long. Well, he thought, he would definitely show her tonight what the two of them had been denied for so long. But there was this little nagging about her that he overlooked completely, glad to see that she could not ignore him for long.

He stood up and led her to his rooms, past Ashisoji Jizo's door.

Eagerly, he pulled her into his chambers and shut the door behind, narrowly missing her loose hair. Tossing her with not much care onto the surface of his bed, he mounted atop her and began pulling apart the hiyoku to have his access to her breasts. His breath was caught in his throat when he felt her thigh rise up slightly against his groin. He held her wrists in each of his hand, positioning her arms eagle spread to not let it get in the way of his fun. Taking a rosy-nipple into his mouth, he suckled at it; flicking it with his tongue and tugging with his teeth.

Nemu whimpered once more beneath him.

He was glad to know that her mood should pass and everything would go back to normal(though he still admired her ameliorated work efficiency). His tongue crept out of his mouth and lapped at the spot center her chest. He moved upwards, tasting her skin and giving a hard bite here and there. She gave a small groan when he reached her neck, sucking there and making sure that she would wake up the next morning with love bites as her new choker, marking her as utterly his even more. A high breath came from her lips, her head was tossed back. Her perseverance was good and all, almost admirable, but he knew just how weak she could be when faced with carnal pleasure, just like any other being. He kissed her on the lips, a hand releasing its hold on her wrist to stroke her long thigh. Her free hand went to his shoulder, placed there. His hip buckled into hers and was already beginning to grind against her heat.

And he felt that something was not entirely… routine with her in their copulation.

He rose up from her body and took a look at her. She was breathing heavily from their activity; but her head was on its side, facing towards the door, and her eyes closed shut. He growled when witnessing how defiant she could be now. Still keeping careful watch on her, the hand upon her thigh moved inwards to her flower. His fingers were eager in rolling the little bud in its tips, tugging at it, all to excite her. He saw her bite down on her lips, the brows furrow as the eyes desperately tried to remain closed. He felt her hand on his shoulder ball itself into a fist, not daring to claw into him.

He seethed, "Nemu. Open your eyes and look at me, you fool."

It looked as though she was struggling to disobey him but it was futile. She turned her face to look at him and she opened her eyes, though half-lidded they were. Her green orbs were hazy and watery, Then there was an almost indescribable pain. It shot through his chest and he bowed over from the sheer shock of it. Like rain falling over the two of them, he _felt _her. Felt what she had been feeling. His anger arose inexplicably as once again the feelings were halted and evaporated away from him. Closed off once more from her. Nemu's lips pursed together. She blinked once and he saw the water drip down the sides of her face. He told himself that he cared not if she was crying.  
>Steadying himself upright, Mayuri pulled at the obi and tossed it onto the floor. He grunted as he angrily opened her hiyoku wide and then her legs. He did not undo his own belt, but bunched up the fabric high enough so that he could have easy access to her. Her hands rested at her side, her gaze somewhere else again. Mayuri dove to her, biting her hill of her breast while his arms hooked underneath her legs. The backs of her knees rested on the crooks of his elbows. As though from instinct, Nemu placed her hands upon his shoulders, but they were more akin to dead hands than hers when she was with him. She kept her legs high up for him.<p>

He nailed himself inside her and winced. Oh, she was so dry! He felt himself barely able to move inside her, each effort was more taxing than the last. He moved against her, her soft chest moulding against his body. Her heels clumsily bumping into his shoulder blades as he charged her. Every thrust of his incited small gasps from her, though she did stay quiet. The bed creaked as he grinded into her.  
>He played with her hips, her breasts; kissing the spots he knew that would surely make her wet. Barely any change and he felt a sense of strange loathing. He bit harder on her breasts as he moved inside her. Not really caring for time or even his own pleasure, but forcing himself to hurry up with his climax.<p>

Mayuri felt himself getting closer. He looked at Nemu's face; though she barely made a sound he could tell that the experience was not comfortable for her either. And not once, he noticed, had she said his name all night. He hissed at her to scream for him. She complied with though he knew that it was utterly fake, the scream was not one of pleasure or even of pain as he rammed himself inside her harder and harder, erratic and capriciously. He pinched at her as he harshly buried himself to the hilt inside her sheathe and finally she screamed from the soreness. He came not too soon after and stayed inside her only briefly, relishing the slickness inside of her for a few moments before pulling out.

The entire ordeal was far from gratifying, the only consolation was that he had taken care of his lust.

But he felt that the whole evening would've been more enjoyable if he had done it alone himself. He removed himself from her body and sat far on the edge of the bed. Breathing heavily through his mouth, he looked over his shoulder to the woman who shared virtually everything with him. Her legs were still spread wide, left the way he had placed them. Her arms rested limply at her sides, a hand shrouding a tit from his view. Her chest rising high and low with every breath that escaped her mouth. Still, she looked away from him and he could tell that she kept her eyes closed. The hiyoku that remained wrapped around her arms and shoulders only accentuated her nudity.

"Nemu." he said out loud.

Swiftly, she rolled off of his bed and rearranged herself. Her eyes did not meet his golden gaze, she focused on the belt she was tying around her waist. When she was finished and she looked neat once more, her hands joined together and she dipped her head down in a matter that was most servant-like, but he knew what the intention behind it. "Will you be needing anything else, sir?"

He did not respond to her and sure enough when he looked back over his shoulder again, she was already gone. He did not chase after her, why should he?

But sitting on the edge of his bed: exhausted, tired, unsatisfied… he thought back to when she finally looked at him, _really_ looked at him and recalled that moment of shared pain between the two of them, unwanted yet exquisite.

Then Mayuri was not so sure, for once, from whom the pain had come from: her or him.

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><p><strong>I really wanted to write something that would get you here(right in the heart) when you read about Nemu trying her hardest to lock him out of her. I'm not so good with poignant stuff, damn it. <strong>

**But I hoped you guys enjoyed this.**

**Any suggestions or comments?**


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